A Story Untitled
by daughterofmars
Summary: Minako's question makes Haruka remember what it took to define herself before she moved to Tokyo with Michiru.


**Beta Credits: **Thanks to turtledove for her beta job. All remaining mistakes are my own.

**Author's Notes: **Based on the anime, since I've never read the manga. This story takes place during and right after episode 100 of Sailor Moon Super. The flashback portrays an event that takes place between what we see in 106 about Michiru and Haruka's first meeting and the beginning of Sailor Moon Super. The text in italics at the beginning and the end of the fic is taken from the dialogue between Minako and Haruka in episode 100.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Sailor Moon. I'm only paying the proper respect and admiration for the character of Sailor Moon and animes in general that fascinates me the most. Tenoh Haruka.

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**A Story Untitled**

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…

_Haruka-san… Don't you ever wish… you were a more… average… schoolgirl? Do you ever feel lonely because ordinary happiness is so far away?_

…

Something about Minako-chan's wording awakened the memory of a line she had heard before, so even though the words themselves were not similar, the essence and the feeling of the query was – to such an extent that Haruka almost suspected her mother of standing somewhere nearby, whispering the questions in the blonde girl's ear, waiting for her to recite them in this uncomfortable, hesitant way of hers. Not because that would be very plausible – after all, she had left her parents behind in their perfect, suburbian home months ago to come here – but apparently Michiru's imaginative streak had rubbed off on Haruka enough for her to even consider the thought.

Realising she had yet to answer, Haruka shook herself out of it. Her mother was nowhere in sight – the mere idea was ridiculous. Most likely she was at home right now, preparing dinner for Haruka's father who would return from work sometime between five and six pm. That was their routine and Haruka's parents did not like changing their habits; which was probably the reason Haruka had caused her mother so much trouble…. and there she went again. Flights of fancy. She had not been prone to them before Michiru entered her life. Really, she hadn't…

After a moment's pause, Haruka recalled Minako's question. Raising her gaze, feeling the other girl's awkwardness at her silence, she enquired quietly: "Are you sacrificing some ordinary happiness right now?"

"… No…"

The reply came both a bit too quickly and far too slowly for Haruka's liking. Surveying Minako wordlessly, inwardly comparing the uneasiness in her blue eyes to her mother's reaction back then, she knew she would have to explain further. Whereas her mother had watched Haruka exchange her skirt for the boy's uniform of her school after having won her first running competition against five male opponents, these girls that Michiru and she kept bumping into knew her only as _Tenoh Haruka_, the mysterious, tomboyish stranger who liked teasing pretty girls.

They had not seen her transformation – either of them. They didn't _know_…

Well, Haruka thought, feeling a smile tug at the corner of her mouth; at least Minako was trying to be polite when interrogating. Haruka's mother had gone for a confrontation, because even though her mother was different from her in many ways, Haruka having inherited her father's colouring and height, the one thing they did have in common was their approach to solving problems. Hiding in the bushes was too impractical when it came to the crunch.

Judging from the way her mother had handled this issue, Haruka had been quite a problem back then.

…

"_Haruka, why is it you don't just behave like the girl you are?" Her mother eyed her trousers with a disapprovingly raised eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. Haruka felt her every move being analysed and evaluated as she padded across the room to the refrigerator. It had been a long day. She had screwed up at training… she did not need this right now. _

_Giving her mother's traditional kimono a look out the corner of her eye, wondering briefly if her sponsors would be willing to pay for the damage she had caused on her car, Haruka sighed and grabbed a canned tea in the fridge. She should have known this discussion would rear its head at some point, having felt her mother's upset eyes on her every morning when she finished dressing before going to school. Subconsciously, Haruka might even have prepared for the matter to be brought up, but still she did not feel like talking about it. It was _private_. Why did her mother suddenly have to delve into what was none of her business?_

"_I am," Haruka answered, congratulating herself on the truthful, yet wholly unrevealing counterattack as she took a slow sip of the can of tea in sheer defiance, looking at her mother over the rim. Silently, her mother turned to face her. Haruka had surpassed her in height years ago, but her mother never seemed like a small woman when it came to these kinds of things. _

"_You've been acting weirdly these days," her mother concluded in a voice that was softer than normally; less sharp, less… feminine, somewhat. Her eyes, one of the few things she had passed on to her only child, sought out Haruka's gaze and held it. Against a look like that, it was hard upholding a defence, Haruka's body relaxing despite her unwillingness to drop her defensive stance. No matter what, she did not like being under scrutiny like this – it felt intruding, and Haruka had never cared for intruders. _

"_Concerned about me much?" she joked, easily shifting into the Ping-Pong game of words that she had gotten so used to with Michiru. If her mother did not feel intimidated by her attitude, Haruka would have to find another way to get out of this pinch. _

"_Yes." The reply came both too quickly and far too slowly for Haruka's liking. It was not a response to her teasing. It was the truth. The truth was always a delicate thing to work with; harder to twist than witty remarks. "I can only guess at what you're up to, Haruka, but whenever you walk out the door, I am not sure whether I should worry or not."_

_Haruka blinked – once, twice – before taking a good look at the person standing in front of her. Her mother was one of those women who had married at an early age, perceiving children as a natural result of that marriage and therefore deciding to stay at home until the little brats were old enough to not care for cookies when they got home from school. All in all, she was everything Haruka would never be. Taking in her mother's long, brown hair, her narrow shoulders, all the traits that did not reflect in Haruka's own looks, she asked herself what her mother saw in her; if she still saw the child she had raised beneath Haruka's short hair that kept falling into her eyes and the neatly ironed shirt that effectively hid her female curves. Did she recognise _Haruka_ even though she had not turned out to be the daughter she might once have dreamed of? _

"_Don't worry, Mom," Haruka heard herself saying, thoughts straying to her transformation pen and Sailor Uranus. The part of her life that Michiru had introduced her to was none of her mother's concern; did not need to become it either… their plans of moving to Tokyo to investigate _Mugen Gakuen _a little more closely were still not entirely finished; caught somewhere in the developing stage… No, her mother needed not know any of that now. These were all Haruka's problems – as it was, her mother had enough trouble with Haruka without having her secret identity messing things up even further. Haruka would make it on her own, without her mother losing any sleep over it – with Michiru's help she would work it out. Clenching her hand around the tea can, she looked up._

_Only to find her mother staring at her own hands with a resigned expression on her face, lips pressed together in a thin line. For as long as Haruka could remember, she had never seen her mother look this old – as if a decade had been added to the weight upon her shoulders all of a sudden. Or maybe the span of 16 years that it had taken for the two of them to reach this level of understanding._

"_You're old enough to make your own choices by now, aren't you?" _

_Haruka did not say anything. It was a rhetorical question; her mother speaking her thoughts out loud, raising her white flag – giving in. She knew the answer to be _yes_ as well as Haruka did._

_Politely looking away as her mother turned to the sink, seemingly collecting herself and drying her eyes that had become very bright, Haruka nodded once with determination and finally put the half-full can down on the kitchen table, already planning to call Michiru and set up a meeting later. _

_Silence was approaching. They did not have forever to find the talismans. Everything Haruka was surrounded by in this moment was in grave danger, and she could not allow it to be destroyed. It simply wasn't an option._

_She had barely taken a step, though, before she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder. _

"_Too manly to help me do the dishes?" Her mother's voice was back to its normal, light tone, but when Haruka turned her head to look at her, her eyes had softened._

_Raising an eyebrow, smiling crookedly, Haruka took off her school jacket and loosened her tie provocatively, grabbing the tea towel from its peg on the wall. "Liking motor sports doesn't automatically make me a man," she informed her mother, drying off the plate she was given._

"_If it wasn't for your outfit, Haruka-kun, that particular hobby of yours might even have been your key to finding a nice boyfriend." The comment was off-hand with a joking edge to it, but Haruka saw right through it, suddenly wanting very badly to get on her bike and head for Michiru's apartment. What her mother was insinuating was not simply the consequence of an intimate mother-daughter moment, because neither her mother nor Haruka herself had ever seen it as proper to discuss such topics over the dinner table. No, within the taunt was hidden the question that had probably initiated this entire conversation in the first place._

_Confessions had always been one of Haruka's weak points… she liked her privacy and was willing to protect it at all costs. However, she – of all people – knew that truth would always force its way through even the strongest armour of secrecy, so maybe this was not the time to run from something she had no real control over. She had already tried that once before; it didn't work._

_Another plate passed between them before Haruka found her voice to answer. Michiru could believe all she wanted that Haruka was always true to herself – to some extent it might even be correct that she was – but Haruka knew the whole truth. She could still feel the urge to run from it all; from her _Senshi _powers, from Michiru, from the face she saw in the mirror each and every morning that was so similar to the woman she met in her more and more frequent dreams of a world beyond time._

"_Who has ever said I wanted a boyfriend?" The words came out huskier than Haruka had meant them to, her voice shifting easily to the tone she normally used when she wanted to make one of her fangirls at school blush and stammer her way through her admiring praise. This was the only way she could think of replying to what her mother was probing for. What other words was she meant to use? Her mother did not know anything about Michiru, neither was she to know about her in the near future. Along with everything else that had something to do with the feeling of transformation, Michiru was Haruka's personal secret for the time being. She preferred it that way – for now._

_Handing over the next wet plate, Haruka's mother did not seem to respond in any way whatsoever, only looking out the window with a frown on her forehead, eyes distant. When Haruka reached for the plate, it slipped between her fingers, crashing to the floor and breaking into tiny little pieces. The silence following the explosion of splinters of china making contact with the tiles was deafening, the only sound audible the wind rustling outside and their slow, mingled breathing. Not for the first time, Haruka wished desperately that she could vanish and _become _the wind, not only try to win over it when racing or possess its powers when she changed into Sailor Uranus. No, _kaze ni naru _in the truest meaning of the phrase_.

_Her mother turned abruptly, stepping up to Haruka, her hand hesitating for a second before her fingers straightened out an invisible fold in her white school shirt, moving upwards to tighten her tie again, looking her up and down before smiling with a hint of sadness to it._

"_It suits you," she said quietly, "but the question is: does it make you happy?" _

_Haruka instinctively knew they were not talking about her choice of clothes anymore, but about something else entirely; something that had yet to be addressed directly by any of them. _

"_It does," she answered, meeting her mother's gaze once before looking down, letting her hair fall into her eyes, covering them. Her mother might have good intentions with this, but it still felt intrusive, and this was the only defence Haruka had if she did not want to make a countermove and attack. _

_Straightening up, her mother stood on tiptoe to kiss her on the cheek before stepping back, the pieces of the broken plate crunching under her feet. Somehow it felt like goodbye – goodbye to the Haruka who had grown up in this house and welcome to another Haruka. _Tenoh Haruka's _true self._

"_You wanted to go for a ride, didn't you?" Her mother asked over one shoulder as she headed for the closet in the hallway, the mood changing back to normal in a matter of seconds. Hesitating for a moment, Haruka looked out the window, following two birds with her eyes until they disappeared out of sight. She smiled. Grabbing her jacket which was hanging on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, she reminded herself that this was her kind of happiness; the life she had been given. It was not ordinary, but it was hers. If her mother understood that, Haruka could mount her motorcycle without regretting that she would probably have to announce her sudden plans of a school transfer when she got back. _

_Michiru would be happy about her decision, and if Michiru was happy, Haruka was satisfied. When all came down to it, they were soldiers. They had a battle to fight. Personal happiness was not a goal in itself, but a reward earned somewhere along the way._

…

"Let's see…" Haruka began the explanation she should have given her mother before leaving with Michiru, feeling her gaze soften as the words formed in her mind. Minako-chan's eyes were glued to her face, almost childish in their unwavering attention to each of Haruka's features. Normally she would feel bothered by such blunt interest – a curiosity so frank in its nature – but for some reason it only made her surer of herself as she opened her mouth to speak. "I'm not exactly sure what 'ordinary' happiness would be, but I don't think my current self is 'abnormal'…"

Minako listened without interrupting; repeating her final sentence before Haruka excused herself.

Later that day – after _Sailor Moon_ and company had got to that boy's pure heart crystal before either Michiru or she had had the chance – as Haruka parked her newly fixed car near the beach, she came to think of her mother once more.

Watching Michiru as she sat cross-legged on the bonnet of the car with her sketchbook in her lap, Haruka wondered for a moment what her mother would think of this girl who had changed her life so drastically. They were more alike than Haruka and her mother would ever be and yet they were so very different. Her mother had chosen her family over a career; neither Michiru nor Haruka had that alternative. Soldiers – _senshi _like themselves – rarely had. Their mission would always be first priority.

"When all of this is over," Haruka said slowly, standing up and leaning against the steering wheel to rest her elbows on the frame of the windscreen, the breeze carrying her words with it as it moved forward to rustle Michiru's aqua hair. Pausing in her outlining of the scenery in front of her, Michiru looked at Haruka over her shoulder, sea-blue eyes attentive and curious.

"Yes?"

"When all of this is over," Haruka repeated, knowing times of peace were still wrapped up in a dim, distant future currently out of reach, "I think I'm going to introduce you to my mother…"

"_Maa_," Michiru replied, suppressed amusement evident in her voice, making Haruka smile in spite of her trail of thoughts. "Is that a proposal, _Haruka-san_?" She turned around to face Haruka completely, her skin glowing in the orange light from the sunset, the paint of the car shimmering with streaks of gold around her legs.

Cocking her head, eyes following the line of the horizon, Haruka shrugged. "Perhaps." Meeting Michiru's gaze, recognising the softness of it as the material dreams were made of, she added: "Do you want it to?" She rested her chin on her folded arms.

Michiru returned her attention to her drawing, her face half-hidden in the shadows that followed when the ocean had devoured the sun. Her pencil scratched over the paper almost angrily. Haruka knew this disappointment from herself; Michiru was not the only one who felt frustrated about their situation after all.

"No," Michiru's words were cool without being unfriendly; her tone fragile. "Not yet." A glimpse of hope.

Haruka sat back in her seat again, grabbing the steering wheel with both hands, almost challenging the wind to fight her. The wind remained silent, refusing to be provoked by her dare. The only answer Haruka got was the sound of the car door opening and closing as Michiru found her seat next to her.

"The sea is in an uproar; another battle will be awaiting us tomorrow," she said sombrely, hugging her sketching book to her chest. "This is the path we have to walk. Our duty as _Sailor Senshi_."

They had talked about this aspect of their lives before, of course. By now, it was like a mantra to Haruka, but that did not make it any less of a burden. Leaning closer to her, Michiru curled her fingers around Haruka's hand that still cradled the steering wheel tightly. Haruka turned her head to look at her.

"As long as you're with me, I don't have any regrets." Michiru's honesty was part of her charm, Haruka had always thought, and this comment was her proof. Giving her partner a half-smile, reaching out her hand to brush a strand of hair out of Michiru's eyes, she decided that some things were more important than the happiness her mother and Minako had thought she wanted.

"_Yokatta_," she replied gently, nodding towards Michiru's sketchbook as the car accelerated with a roar. "So, can I see the result?"

Opening the book, Michiru presented her with a picture that showed a perfect illustration of the shore. Two sets of footprints – swallowed up by the waves in places – led to a couple in the right upper corner of the paper. A flash of muted aluminium and vivid teal in the otherwise colourless sketch made Haruka turn her focus back to her driving with a smirk.

"It's us," she concluded, unnecessarily.

"At some point… after I've met your mother, _ne_?" In Michiru's voice there was a stubborn note of optimism traceable, followed by her mild laughter. The sound of that well-known laughter made Haruka feel as if being a _Sailor Senshi_ was not so much a cursed destiny as simply her _fate_.

Perhaps even soldiers were allowed to wish for a different future…

At least they could always fight for what they believed in.

…

_What I am now is what is closest to my true self. That's what I think. Tenoh Haruka who fell in love with motor sports can only live in this manner, no matter what she does. I have something more valuable than "ordinary" happiness. I guess._

…

** finis **


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